


The Cure

by AHS



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Brian pov, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-05
Updated: 2008-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHS/pseuds/AHS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian pov, somewhere between the engagement and the ending. Is he trying too hard, or is he just happy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cure

I know Justin thinks I’m trying too hard. Trying to prove I love him by being something I’m not. Well, I do fucking love him, more than anybody gets or ever will. Even him. That’s who I am, and I don’t have to pretend anything.

Sure, the stripper was hot, but not fucking him was hardly a sacrifice. Nor was it a symptom of me being sick in the head, having become a lesbian, or having lost my magic powers. I didn’t decline as a declaration of monogamy to Justin. Christ, I’m pretty sure I did that already, when I proposed. I didn’t fuck the guy because… (ready for this?)… I didn’t want to.

And the only thing that scares me is that knowing it doesn’t scare me.

Except for the whole Brandon competition thing when we were broken up, and yeah, the months he was in LA… fuck, not even… I haven’t really tricked like I’m known for since before we got back together, post-Ian.

I made sure to have a few at first, and made sure he knew. I was too fucking happy to have him again, too… (hate the word)… vulnerable. Justin had come into my life and bulldozed all the walls around me, and when he left, they went back up even higher. But as soon as I said “You can start immediately,” I felt bricks knocked over just by him smiling at them. Walls crumbling at the fucking soft touch of his hair through my fingers. I had to do something to keep from being his completely.

Which is why I made and kept appointments I was about as excited about as a dental cleaning or getting my tires rotated.

“Bed’s that way… Take your clothes off, I guess… I’m gonna take a shower… No, don’t join me… and don’t steal anything… I’ll be out in a minute, and… whatever.”

No, it’s not like it was torture to fuck that trick, or any of the others. Orgasms were had all around. But it did feel kind of ridiculous that I was sending Justin away for something I knew I wouldn’t enjoy half as much. Trick tried to suck my dick first thing, but Justin had just given me quite possibly the best damn blow job I‘d ever experienced, so I flipped him and fucked him before his mediocre mouth could wash away the feel of Justin’s.

Soon, I think I forgot to keep proving a point. Tricking dropped off dramatically, and it was only backroom, never at the loft. Well, except for special occasions (and what else would you call an orgy?). Then one day I realized I was… basically… only fucking Justin.

You would think I’d have immediately gone out to fix that problem, but I didn’t. I was pretty sure he wasn’t tricking… hoped he wasn’t, actually… but was mostly fucking glad he never mentioned it.

When he was caught up in that Pink Posse bullshit, I spent more nights at home, fucking waiting up worrying about him, than I did out fucking. When I had cancer, for so long, my body wouldn’t let me be who I was… and when my dick finally got hard again, the identity I needed to reclaim, first and foremost, was that of the guy who fucks Justin Taylor a hell of a lot more than once.

And when my world blew up, I staggered through smoke and fear, feeling phantom concrete on my knees and blood on my hands. The part of me that believed he had to be alive, because if he stopped breathing, so would I… warring with the part of me that had always believed only the good die young, and that he was never mine to keep.

After that… looking at him, and touching him again… telling him I loved him wasn’t difficult. Fucking _not_ telling him all those years was a lot tougher, even if the words were never exactly on the tip of my tongue. I still don’t say them all the time, but I _can_ now. I can fucking _propose_! Think about marrying Justin, spending the rest of my life with just him, and not only not freak out, but smile. Fucking _happy_.

I guess my turnaround could have seemed a bit sudden. But it just figures. When I was being a shit to him half the time, telling him to get lost and find someone his own age, he knew without a doubt that I was falling for him and we were meant to be. Now that I’m giving him everything he ever wanted, he thinks it’s not really what I want. I think he thinks he won’t be enough. That I’ll feel trapped, get bored.

Despite the fact that it took me three plus years to admit we were in a relationship… never mind the five for the love thing… I maintain that Brian Kinney does not bullshit. So, believe me when I say, Justin became the cure for my boredom and much more from day one. That fucking first moment I saw him, when my breath caught and my dick nearly lunged for him. Why is it so hard for him to believe he still is?

( _Cuddling?_ Like we haven’t always done it. It’s just the word that sets off alarm bells.)

Okay… yeah. So maybe I’m playing on those doubts now. Maybe the only thing that hurts as much as the thought of losing him is the thought of holding him back. Maybe I still believe there’s no way he’s mine to keep. Maybe now I am trying to get him to go.

I just wish it wasn’t proving so easy.

 


End file.
